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Updated: May 29, 2025
At a little distance sat Aunt Ruey, with a quantity of black crape strewed on two chairs about her, very busily employed in getting up a mourning-bonnet, at which she snipped, and clipped, and worked, zealously singing, in a high cracked voice, from time to time, certain verses of a funeral psalm.
I wish I dared to have a new hat for church, with a little color in it, my mourning-bonnet makes me look so old, but I am afraid people would talk." The feminine fear of looking old was needless in her case. But how the days dragged, and how many times she counted them to see how many more were to pass ere that dearly beloved brother was to arrive!
She, half hidden in the frills of a great mourning-bonnet and the folds of a great black shawl, kept repeating, in a sharp little gabble, like a child's: "I smell the tea, 'Melia I do, I smell it. Yes, I do I told ye so. I tell ye, I smell the tea."
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